Accept the Fleas
by writingrose2008
Summary: Barbossa/OC. The title explains itself later. A series of vignettes involving Hector and his wife Morgan during On Stranger Tides.
1. Chapter 1

This piece needs more explanation than can fit in the small space we're given in the summary box. It's a series of scenes that take place during On Stranger Tides. There is a much longer plot, which is referenced throughout. I've only written this so far and wanted to post it to 'test the waters' as it were (to see what the response would be before I make the decision to continue.) I do have plans to go eventually and do something like this with the other three movies if the response is good. In this piece, my O.C. Morgan has been with Hector since he turned pirate. She made a deal with Calypso in Dead Man's Chest, offering to free her in exchange for Hector's life. Some details are referenced in the piece.

Note: There is some Spanish in here (because my OC is from Spain), I make a point to try to translate it. If it is not obvious from the context, look at the end of the post.

Oh yea… and I don't own POTC in case you were wondering.

So… now, for your consideration

_Acepta las Pulgas_

Accept the Fleas

"Welcome aboard HMS Providence, gentlemen. Today, His Majesty the King has commanded us to set sail for White Cap Bay. Our purpose be to reach the Fountain of Youth before the Spanish and claim the waters there in the name of England. It be dangerous water we sail for now, mates. Any man not willing to risk death in quest of the prize ahead is best left behind…"

Try as I might, I could not keep from letting out a soft, almost undetectable sigh. The longer my husband spoke, the more difficult it became to act as if I was paying attention. The longer I stood in place, next to all of the men aboard the ship and dressed in the unnecessarily heavy Naval Uniform, the more sweat formed on my forehead. I wondered if that would was as much of a dead giveaway to what I was (or was not) as I thought. The longer I spent in such close proximity to rest of the crew, the more danger I was in of being discovered.

Standing next to the officers, the disguise I had been so confident of before seemed much less effective. It was an actual officer uniform, to be sure. It was one of Hector's own… the first he had been issued when he had accepted employment from the King. It was my alterations I doubted. I had been hemming and sewing at it for weeks after he feel asleep from either exhaustion or rum, whichever won over. It was never me anymore… never me he came to for assurance… never my name he sighed in his sleep, only the name of another, where his thoughts truly were his every waking moment, as it had been for the past years: Blackbeard.

"You, private," the sharpness in Hector's voice all of sudden brought me back to the task at hand. I looked all around me, but the more seconds past, the more obvious it became his address was directed at me. He was still standing above us on the platform, a few steps away from the helm, but the direction of his gaze was unmistakable. I met my husband's blue eyes quickly, thinking how different they had became since we had came to England, as I tried to form my response.

"Yes, sir?" I responded in the voice I had also been practicing for weeks, the masculine form of my own.

"Are you, just a lad, are ye not fearful of the seas ahead?"

"Not I, sir." I answered faster, still minding my accent and the natural high-pitch of my voice. "I fear no stretch of open water."

Something that resembled a devious grin came upon his face. A slight chuckle came from his chest.

"Then ye are either very brave… or a very foolish lad."

The rest of the ship laughed at his words. I stood, not allowing a single emotion to show on my face. I expected him to speak to me more. I wondered what was going on in his thoughts, something I hadn't known for quite sometime. I wondered if suspected or even knew by now his own wife was on the ship, ready to sail with him as she always had. But, Hector continued addressing the entire crew after asking me a single question and soon dismissed us to our duties. For the moment, at least, I thought I had succeeded in keeping my identity a secret.


	2. Chapter 2

Walking to the crew's quarters after first watch that night, I began to feel the exhaustion of the day. Between keeping up a male appearance and doing the work of someone much younger than I was, I had little energy left in my body to spare. For some reason, even the ache in my limbs brought back memories. Perhaps it was being on a ship, feeling the mixture of sea and air and freedom for the first time in years… or perhaps it was something else like the presence of my husband in the state he was in. Either way, memories came lapping at my brain like the waves against the ship. I couldn't stop them.

It became more difficult with each passing day, but I could remember the time in my life when I would have had the strength to do the day of work I had just done… and more. My first years as a pirate with Hector were among those times. Back then, I had done the work of the crew (if for nothing else out of a sheer stubbornness to prove myself to them). At night, when there was nothing left to be done, I would pick up a sword and force Hector into another lesson with it. No matter how much he complained, I knew he looked forward to it as much as I did. Then, when neither of us could hold the blades strait in our hands anymore, we would make our way to his quarters. Even then, it would be hours until we feel asleep in each other's arms.

I was remembering one of those night in particular, when the combination of talking and making love had kept us up nearly until sunrise, when I felt a hand grab me. I could feel my body being shoved into a room off to the side. What strength there was left in my body tried to resist. Being exhausted and at a disadvantage in strength, I had no choice but to follow the direction of the pull in spite of my struggling, through a doorway and into a room slightly until the door slammed shut. Then, I found myself pushed up against the hard, wooden door being held in place by a pair of familiar arms and stared at angrily by a pair of blue eyes.

"Morgan!" Hector's voice spat my name close to my face. I looked at him in confusion in one last attempt to save my weeks of planning and design.

"Sir?" My voice was as he had heard before, only even more careful now being so close to him.

"I know its you, Morgan!" he said as loud as he dared. If it had been possible for his voice to be more angry than it had been before, it was then. "Puttin' on a uniform and bindin' yerself doesn't fool me."

"Sir, I-" Before I could force out any more of my carefully formulated words, one of Hector's arms released me and grabbed at the hat on top of my head. My hair fell to just passed my shoulders. When he had last seen it down two nights ago, it had been much longer, but the disguise and the need to hide it under the hat had forced me to take a knife to it. He looked at me again in disbelief as he threw the hat forcefully to the ground and returned his hand to my arm.

"Of all the foolish, empty-headed schemes, Morgan!" He continued. "What arrr you about, doing this?"

I didn't answer his question. I looked at him, right into his eyes. Seeing the anger in them suddenly made me feel new rage of my own. Rage for the past years of my life, rage for staying in a country that hated my own, at not being able to wear my rosary, at a king who had turned my husband into something he was not (a man who would leave his wife behind), and rage toward Hector who was standing in front of me and failed to see any of it.

"You're hurting me," were the only words I could think to say.

The grip on my arms loosened. I watched as he sighed and looked away from me. When he looked at me again, there was no anger left in them.

"You know that the king forbid this," his voice was softer than before.

"The king forbids a lot of things," I replied, my tone adjusting to the drop of his. "Are you to listen to them all?"

"I'll do what I must."

"For how long?" I demanded.

"As long as need be for-"

"For revenge? Can you not see it's destroying you?"

"Ye don't understand, Morgan," He began.

"Don't I?" I retorted, my voice starting to rise again. "You don't need to remind me of anything, Hector, I was there. I was there for the curse and for your death. I gave my voice to bring you back. I was there for the brethren court and the battle that followed, for the victory against the East India Company. I was there when you decided to take the _Pearl _from Jack Sparrow again. And I was there when Blackbeard took our ship and you lost your leg. I was fighting that wrench so you would have a chance to free yourself. Through everything you've been through, I've been at your side… and still you would leave me behind?"

He looked at me and shook his head. I took in a deep breath as he again took one of his hands off my arms. This time, he ran some of his fingers gently through what was left of my hair.

"If I had known any of that would happen, Morgan, I would never have brought ye."

I looked up at him, anger and sadness both in my eyes.

"You would have left me in Spain, wouldn't you?"

"Aye, I would have left you back at home where you belong."

"That's what you thought you were doing? Leaving me where I belong?"

"That's what I was doin'" he retorted.

"That's what the king has made you think you're doing." I argued.

"The king has nothing to do with this." Hector raised his voice slightly. "You and I are the only ones who truly know how dangerous this little venture is. You and I know what can happen to a ship when it gets close to him, Morgan. We're the only ones that survived."

"We survived once before. Blackbeard fears you, that's why he wants _aqua de vida_."

"Aye, the fates say he'll die by my hand. But they fail to specify what becomes of us."

"We've never known before." I said gently.

"We've never been this old before."

"What?"

I looked at him, confusion in my face. Neither of us liked to talk about our age… or how we knew the young part of our lives was long ago spent. I had no idea why he had brought it up. Hector looked down at me, gently pressing his lips to the top of my forehead.

"When I died on the _Isle de Mureta_, what made ya so determined to bring me back?"

"Because I love you." I answered. "And you weren't there. I was alone."

"And that's why I wanted you to stay out of this, Morgan." he said. "I'm going to die again someday… and I don't fancy being alone when that time comes."

"You think Blackbeard has a better chance of killing me?"

"Its odds I'd rather not gamble with."

"And what if something happens to you? What then? I gave Calypso her freedom in exchange for you last time. I have nothing to offer her for your life now." He gave no answer. The room was silent for what felt like hours on end. I knew then the true toll the past years had taken on him. Finally, I pulled away from him, turning away and opening the door to the room. I took a step out, not looking back as I spoke the words that were screaming in my head.

"You are a selfish man, Hector Barbossa and you have been bested by revenge."


	3. Chapter 3

Days passed and the ship sailed approaching White Cap Bay. I didn't speak to Hector again after I walked out of the room that night. He didn't try to force me to stay or try to talk to me after. The next morning, I found my hat that had been tossed forgotten on the floor during our argument had been left behind outside of the crew's quarters. I picked it up to put it on and a tiny piece of parchment flew out. Before anyone else could see it, I snatched it up and slipped it into the pocket of my jacket. I was in no hurry hear or read to anything else he had to say. I had heard everything I needed to in the room the night before.

I Allowed the unread words to lay almost forgotten in my pocket for days until one night while I was on watch. I stood along the side of the ship, gazing out across the open sea. The rest of the crew were in their quarters, or so I thought until I heard a voice come from behind me.

"Frightful bad luck to have a woman aboard," I heard a voice say from behind me.

"Then it's a good thing I'm not a woman. Isn't it, Master Gibbs?" I said in my practiced masculine voice.

"Aye, a right fair stroke of luck that is if you ask me," he agreed. He showed no signs, but I knew that he had figured out who I was. Being in such a position as he was in (as our prisoner) I didn't think there was any harm in him knowing.

"But ya know, the Capt'n doesn't believe in such superstitions as I."

"Dosen't he?" I asked, turning to look in his direction.

"Nay. In fact, the first time I voiced such opinions in his presence, he near cut out me tongue."

"What stopped him?"

"Why, the very same creature I had spoke the words against," he answered. "His wife."  
>I gave him a strange look, but it didn't seem to effect him. After a few moments of silence, I decided to speak again. By then, I figured it was the only chance I had of finding out why he was bringing up the matter now.<br>"I didn't know the captain was married," I said, unintentionally allowing bitterness escape even in my disguised masculine tone. Once again, I was glad the majority of the crew was asleep in their quarters and unable to hear what was being said.  
>"Most people don't. For reputation's sake, they mostly both keep it 'tween themselves."<p>

"And what is she like, this wife of the captain?"

Master Gibbs looked at me, like I had asked him a question that was impossible to answer, but he must have known I would ask. He glanced above where we stood, near the helm of the ship, then back to me and past to the dark sea in the distance.

"Well, she's a stubborn creature, to be sure. A woman would have to be, you know, to stay with a man through all they've weathered."

"I suppose so," I granted this fact about myself.

"But that ain't all of it. She's never had eyes for anyone else save him, nor him for anyone else either."

"Seems impossible…."

"Aye, but its so, I tell ya," he insisted. "Anyone who so much as catches a glance of them together knows as much."

I again looked at him, partially in amazement. Hector and I had always kept our marriage out of sight while in front of a crew. We had never called each other by anything less formal than 'Captain' and 'Ma'am' in the presence of anyone else. Had we really failed so miserably in keeping our life a secret? Was everything as obvious as he said? I tried to think back, but when I was honest with myself, I couldn't tell. I had to accept that his words were just as likely as not.

"Is that really so?" I asked him.

"Aye," he answered. I nodded as the man turned and began to walk away from where he had stood. "I best be gettin' below deck now and leave ya to yer watch. I suspect you've heard more of my notions than ye cared to anyhow."

I turned back in the direction of the sea, not speaking another word as the sound of his boots against the planks of the ship filled the night air. When they ceased and there was silence around me once again, I suddenly remembered the pocket of my coat the piece of parchment that was lying inside it. Quietly, I pulled it out and allowed my finger to unfold it gently. By the light of the moon, I could just barely decipher the words written inside if it.

'_Si quieres el perro, acepta las pulgas_.'

Instantly, I knew everything about the words was Hector's. The handwriting, the points and curls were unmistakable. But just as familiar as the script it was written in were the words written on the parchment. It was a Spanish proverb, as old as the language itself. 'If you want the dog, accept the fleas.' I had heard my parents say it to each other as a child for years before I had left home. When they would fight, begin to bicker about trivial things, it would always end with those exact words. 'Accept the fleas'… accept the one you love with all their faults.

The phrase had reappeared years later when I met Hector. He had asked me to teach him Spanish and for some reason, those had been among the first I had taught him. When had he asked me to married him, I had repeated the words before I gave him my answer. Now, I found my own words were being used against me as plea for forgiveness. Everything was deafeningly quiet now. It was as if the entire world was awaiting me to react, to decide what to do with the words. However, the trouble was, I had no idea what to do with them. For the moment, I sighed and continued to look out at the moon shining along the ocean.


End file.
